


in midnights, in cups of coffee

by suspendrs



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Neighbors, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Strangers to Lovers, Year Long Fic, idek, is that a tag, no, sorry - Freeform, yeah idk what this fic is about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 11:56:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10513293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suspendrs/pseuds/suspendrs
Summary: “Sorry about the sugar,” Louis says, backing toward his own flat. “Bundle up before you go out.”Harry smiles so sweetly then that Louis can’t imagine he’ll even need the sugar, if the muffins aren’t sweet enough just because they were made by him. “Thanks,” he says, eyes lingering a little longer on Louis before he lets himself back into Gemma’s apartment, and then Louis is just standing in the hallway by himself.Or, Louis is overworked and cold, Harry is stressed out, and they might be in love.





	

**Author's Note:**

> liv, you say, two posts in one week? yes, i say. liv, you say, have you lost your mind? also yes, i say.  
> this was a project i started because of the worst case of writer's block i've ever experienced, and thankfully this lil piece of shite helped me out of it.
> 
> idk. title is from Seasons of Love from Rent, obviously.

Winter

Louis’s fingers are already frozen stiff by the time he gets to the car, even though he’s only parked on the curb and he only walked out the door of the cafe a moment ago. It’s so stupidly, unreasonably cold outside that it makes him almost irrationally angry; there isn’t even any snow on the ground, it has no right to be this cold out.

His car door is frozen shut, because of course it is. It takes him much longer than he’d like to admit to pry the door open and when he does, it takes another five minutes to get the engine started, and the heat comes out cold.

He only lives a couple blocks down the street from work, but it’s just too cold out to be walking back and forth this time of year. Since his roommate up and abandoned him last month, he’s had to turn the heat off to be able to make rent every month, so the more energy and warmth he can conserve, the better.

He rolls the car up to the curb on the opposite side of the road to his building, jogging quickly across the street and inside. The walk up the stairs to the fourth floor gives him that little bit of heat he needs to not freeze to death, but he’s right back to shivering the moment he gets inside.

The flat is a mess, mostly because Louis has been working 12 hour days at the cafe and hardly sleeping to make up for the half of his rent that no longer gets paid. He desperately needs to find another roommate, but he’s far too busy, and for now he’s just trying to get by.

He’s lucky he’s not still in school. He graduated last spring with an English degree that he doesn’t know what to do with, and he’s stuck in a dead end job that he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to leave, but at least he’s not still in school. He wants to be a writer, maybe a novelist, or maybe a songwriter. At the moment, though, he doesn’t have time for any of that. All he has time for now is working, sleeping, and, if he’s lucky, eating.

He trudges through the filth of his flat to his room, quickly stripping out of his coat and work clothes. He pulls on the heaviest jumper he owns and a pair of thick wool sweatpants, a couple of pairs of socks, and then slips his coat back on over everything. He’s terrified of freezing in his sleep; these are just the necessary precautions.

Once he’s all bundled up for bed, he heads to the kitchen for a warm cup of tea, or maybe just a warm cup of water to hold if he’s out of tea bags like he suspects he is. The knock on the door comes just as he’s getting ready to waddle back to bed and burrow under his blankets.

Louis frowns and shuffles over, peering out the peephole into the hallway. There’s a boy, not much younger than himself, in a jumper and jeans, waiting outside.

He opens the door carefully, mindful of his hot water, and blinks expectantly at the boy. The stranger smiles awkwardly, clearing his throat.

“Hi, um, sorry to bother you,” the boy says. Louis opens the door a little more fully, and the boy frowns. “Oh, sorry, are you headed out?”

“No?” Louis shakes his head, spotting a pair of mittens on the floor by the door and reaching down for them. “Was just headed to bed, actually,” he says.

The boy watches on confusedly as Louis pulls the mittens on, waiting until Louis looks back up. “Um, right. Well, sorry again to bother you, but do you have a cup of sugar I could borrow?” he asks, taking Louis’s mug from him so Louis can get the mittens on.

“Probably not,” Louis shrugs, accepting the mug back with a small smile. “Why?”

“I’m baking,” the boy says, “and it’s freezing out, so I was hoping to not have to go outside to actually go and buy sugar. But you’re the last neighbor I’ve checked with, so I guess I’m out of luck,” he frowns.

“Sorry,” Louis frowns back. “It’s late, though, why are you baking right now?”

“I just moved in with my sister,” the boy explains, motioning to the door across the hall from Louis’s. “I’m making muffins for breakfast tomorrow to say thank you, since she won’t let me pay rent,” he grins.

“What are you in town for?” Louis asks conversationally, leaning against the doorframe. Hopefully, the longer he talks, the more warm air from the hallway will bleed into his flat.

“I’m in my third year of uni and I can’t stay on campus anymore, and I was abroad for the fall semester but now that I’m back I didn’t have a place to stay, and since Gemma lives right here I figured it’d be nice to stay here with her,” the boy says, watching Louis amusedly.

“Oh,” Louis perks up, grinning at the boy. “You’re Harry?”

“Um, yes?” the boy frowns suddenly, clearly shocked that Louis knows his name.

“Gemma and I are friends,” Louis explains. “She’s mentioned you a few times, but she didn’t mention you were moving in.”

“Oh,” Harry smiles, giving Louis another once over. “So, I’ll be seeing you around, then?”

“Probably,” Louis smiles back, straightening up against the doorframe. 

“Cool,” Harry hums, watching him for a moment. “So, since we’re friends by association now,” he starts, nodding at Louis’s wardrobe, “can I ask what the hell you’re doing?”

Louis rolls his eyes, hugging his warm mug to his chest and giving Harry an unimpressed look. “I sacrificed my heat to be able to pay rent,” he sighs. “My dickhead roommate abandoned me last month and I can’t afford his half of the rent and heat at the same time, so,” he shrugs.

“That’s shit,” Harry pouts, looking more tenderly at Louis’s mittens. 

“Yeah,” Louis agrees, glancing over his shoulder into his own flat. “Well, I’m working double shifts every day at the cafe down the street to keep up with the bills, which means I have to be back at work at 6am, so I should probably get to bed,” he says, looking back up at Harry.

“Yeah, of course,” Harry smiles, backing away a small step. “Good night.”

“Sorry about the sugar,” Louis says, backing toward his own flat. “Bundle up before you go out.”

Harry smiles so sweetly then that Louis can’t imagine he’ll even need the sugar, if the muffins aren’t sweet enough just because they were made by him. “Thanks,” he says, eyes lingering a little longer on Louis before he lets himself back into Gemma’s apartment, and then Louis is just standing in the hallway by himself.

He lumbers through his living room and into his bedroom, falling into bed and curling up under all of his covers and every throw blanket he has in the flat. His mug of now cold water remains forgotten on the bedside table as he drifts fitfully off to sleep, shivering the whole night through.

-

Being a barista is far from Louis’s dream job, but all things considered, it could be worse. He just makes drinks for hours on end, usually the same thing over and over again, but at least he’s not outside in the cold. Or at home in the cold.

They’ve been a bit short staffed lately, which means Louis is the only one on today that isn’t brand fucking new and has a single clue as to what he’s doing. He has nothing against the sweet girl at the register, but he wishes she might step up and help him when he’s drowning in drink orders instead of just standing there staring at her feet between customers at the register.

He’s made so many drinks this morning he feels like he’s trapped in his own personal hell of hot foam and burnt fingertips, but the orders keep coming. He’s tossing them out almost as quickly as he’s getting them, shouting the names scribbled haphazardly on the sides of the cups, sliding them across the counter to their grumpy owners and starting on the next one in the same breath.

He hardly glances at the names as he’s calling them out, paying hardly any mind to the customers that come to collect them. It isn’t until a familiar name catches his eye that he stops to take a breath, a hint of a smile pulling at his lips.

“Harry?” he calls, placing the cup down on the counter and glancing out at the sea of grumpy people. The very Harry he’d been thinking of emerges, a refreshing grin on his face as he retrieves his cup.

“Hello again,” Louis says, ignoring Maggie as she hands him another empty cup with an order scribbled on it. “Is encountering you going to become a regular occurrence?”

 

“You,” Harry grins, standing like an oaf in front of the people trying to get to the counter to see what the hold up is. “So this is where you work?”

“You found me,” Louis confirms, passing another finished drink off to a balding old man named Jonathan. 

“What a coincidence,” Harry muses, sipping at his drink. It must burn his tongue, Louis knows exactly how scalding it is, but Harry hardly flinches. “I come here every morning before class.”

“Do you?” Louis hums, watching what he’s doing as he pours a cup of boiling water for tea. “I’ve worked here for nearly a year, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you,” he frowns, plopping the tea bag in and handing it off to a woman named Abigail.

“Well I haven’t been here since about last May, have I,” Harry says, stepping hardly an inch to the side and managing to still be mostly in everyone’s way. “I was home in Cheshire for the summer, and then I was in France for the entire fall semester,” he explains.

“France? No way,” Louis grins. “I love France.”

“Are you French?” Harry asks conversationally, “your name sounds it.”

“Got a bit of French in me somewhere, I reckon,” Louis shrugs. “Not too sure, if I’m honest.”

“Louis,” Maggie says quietly, nodding her head toward the drink orders piling up, like she has any authority to tell him what to do. Louis gives her a nod back and rolls his eyes at Harry.

“Sorry, I’ll let you get back to work,” Harry says, giggling as he steps away. 

“The people,” Louis sighs dramatically, flicking his fringe out of his face, “they need me.”

Harry laughs again and bows slightly, and then he’s on his way. Louis watches him go for a moment and then snaps back into work mode, powering through the rest of the morning like a machine.

He can’t help but keep thinking about Harry while he works, about his dimples and his soft little baby curls and the way his nose twitches when he laughs. It isn’t until the morning rush dies down that he realizes Harry is still in the cafe, sitting at a table near the corner with his laptop open in front of him. He looks adorable, all hunched over and focused on whatever he’s typing, and Louis watches him shamelessly for just a moment.

He wonders if Gemma would be opposed to Louis asking him out, or if Harry even likes boys in the first place. He’s cute, is all, and seems like he might be a fun date. Maybe they could be friends at the very least, since just their short interaction made Louis’s morning that much better. He thinks he’d quite like to spend more time around Harry, in whatever way he can manage.

Harry leaves eventually, but before he goes, he catches Louis’s eye just to wave goodbye. Louis waves back and spends the rest of his shift warm and smiley, and if he knew Maggie better maybe he’d gush to her about this new crush he’s developing, but as it is he isn’t exactly her biggest fan so far. She leaves at the end of the morning shift, anyway, and Louis is working the afternoon shift as well, so he never really gets the chance.

His spirits remain high until he finally heads home at the end of the day, and he finds a warm apartment and a man on his couch.

“Fuck,” Louis spits, rushing to the thermostat to shut it off. “What did you do?”

“Turned the heat on?” Shane says, confusedly matching Louis’s frantic tone. “It was freezing in here, Lou!”

“Yeah, that’s the point,” Louis scoffs, turning to face him. “I don’t have a roommate, remember? Which means in order to pay rent, I can’t pay for heat,” he explains.

“That’s insane,” Shane laughs, reaching for the thermostat until Louis slaps his hand away. “Let me pay for your heat, then, you shouldn’t be living in a freezing cold flat.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Louis says, giving him a soft smile. “That’s too much. We haven’t even been dating that long.”

“Don’t ask, then,” Shane grins, grabbing at Louis hips to pull him close. “Just let me.”

“No,” Louis says politely, pushing him away gently. “Thank you, though. This is fine, I swear.”

“Alright,” Shane frowns, letting Louis go and watching him set off to his bedroom. “But I’m paying for tonight. And for every date we have from here on out,” he calls.

“Whatever you want, love,” Louis calls back, shaking his head as he sets about changing. He almost forgot they had a date scheduled tonight, or, to be completely honest, that he had a boyfriend at all. They’ve only been dating a couple months and, yeah, Shane’s nice, but he’s not exactly everything Louis’s ever hoped for in a man. He’ll do, though, especially now when Louis’s down on his luck, even if it means Louis can’t actually ask Harry out like he’s been planning all day.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Louis asks when he steps back into the living room, finding Shane shivering on the couch. 

“I found this place on Yelp,” Shane grins, standing up and reaching for Louis’s hand. Louis ignores his offer in favor of pulling his coat on, and then gingerly slips his hand into Shane’s. “The reviews looked good. It’s a little bar in town.”

Louis does his best not to roll his eyes, or at least not until Shane isn’t looking. There’s nothing wrong with going to a bar his boyfriend found on Yelp, of course, not really. It’s just, well, they’ve gone to a bar for every single date they’ve ever had, and Louis has an affinity for being wined and dined properly. He loves getting drunk and loud in a pub, don’t get him wrong, it’s just that he likes nice things, sometimes, especially when someone else is paying.

It turns out that Shane’s 3.5 star review Yelp bar is exactly that, 3.5 stars, and by the end of the night Louis is more tired drunk than he is giddy drunk. Shane is kissing down his neck nearly the entire walk up the stairs to his flat, and Louis’s only letting it happen because he’s too exhausted to push him off. He’s fishing for his keys in his pocket when he hears a third set of footsteps echoing in the hallway, and he glances up and straight into Harry’s eyes.

Harry blinks at him, and Louis gives him a tired smile. Harry smiles awkwardly back and then sets his eyes on Shane, frowning at the hands he has on Louis’s waist.

“Shane,” Louis elbows him, finally breaking the seal of his lips on the nape of his neck. “This is Harry, new neighbor. This is Shane,” he introduces them uninterestedly, finally getting his keys out while Shane removes a hand from his waist and extends it to Harry.

“Louis’s boyfriend,” Shane says firmly, shaking Harry’s hand firmly. “How are you?”

“Great,” Harry mutters, glancing back at Louis. Louis just shrugs while Shane’s eyes are still boring into Harry’s skull, and Harry nods once. “Um, good to meet you.”

Louis gets the door open and pushes inside, rolling his eyes as Shane backs himself in without taking his eyes off Harry. “C’mon, alpha,” Louis mocks, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him along. “I’m exhausted, and I have work tomorrow.”

Harry gives a little chuckle and Louis smiles at him before he closes the door, tossing his keys onto the counter in the kitchen and heading straight for the bedroom.

“Can I stay over?” Shane asks, following after him like a lost puppy. 

“Sure,” Louis shrugs, stripping out of his jeans and into his thick, warm pajama bottoms. “But not if you want to do anything more than sleep.”

“Don’t know how you could do anything more than sleep in here,” Shane mutters, shivering a little as he slips his coat off. “Don’t even know how you could sleep in here, to be honest.”

“You get used to it,” Louis says, climbing into bed and under the covers. 

Shane slips in behind him in just his pants and t-shirt, and Louis feels a bit bad for him. He supposes it might be better with the added body heat, but it is still stupidly freezing in the flat. Shane still falls asleep quickly and sleeps like a log, however, and Louis lays awake thinking for a bit.

Now that he’s really considering it, he doesn’t think he’s as into Shane as he thought he was, or even as much as he was when they started dating. Maybe he’s just bored, or maybe Shane just isn’t as fun as Louis thought he would be. It has nothing to do with Harry, probably; Louis’s just not that interested.

He decides, right before he falls asleep, that he’ll keep Shane around until after the winter, at least. It’ll be easier to dump him in spring, and besides, if he keeps him for the winter he can use him for the extra body heat in his bed. He cuddles back against him and waits for his warmth to seep through Louis’s clothes, and then he finally closes his eyes, drifting off to sleep.

-

Harry comes in a bit after the morning rush the following day, so Louis has a bit more time to stand and talk with him at the counter without the drink orders piling up.

Louis doesn’t even have to call his name, just shuffles over and hands him the drink. He paid attention to what it was this morning, so he can hopefully memorize it; hazelnut coffee with a splash of skim milk and a ridiculous amount of sugar. 

“Hi,” Harry says, cradling his coffee close and examining Louis’s face. “You look tired.”

“Yeah, hard to sleep when your flat is as cold as the arctic and there’s a massive manchild stuck to your arse,” he shrugs. Harry laughs, so Louis laughs too.

“Yeah, cool boyfriend,” Harry says, raising his eyebrows at Louis as he sips at his drink. Louis just sticks his tongue out and wipes down the counter, even though it’s hardly dirty. “How long have you been dating?” Harry asks, tentative like he’s not even sure Louis wants to talk about it. Why wouldn’t Louis want to talk about his own boyfriend?

“Um,” Louis pauses, counting backwards in his head for a moment too long. “Uh, four months? I think?”

Harry squawks a little laugh, earning a disapproving glance from Maggie at the register. “You seem very happy,” he says, almost jokingly.

Louis shrugs, laughing a little as well. “Yeah, well, I mean, I don’t know. He’s nice, and he keeps me warm, and he’s not a dick,” he says. “He pays for our dates, so, what more can I ask for?”

When Louis looks up Harry is frowning, and Louis decides he hates it when Harry frowns. “You can ask for a lot more,” Harry says. “You deserve the world, why is your bar set so low?”

“That’s sweet,” Louis smiles. “But I’m in no position to be looking for my dream guy, at the moment, seeing as how I’m no dream guy myself,” he chuckles.

“You’re someone’s dream guy,” Harry says seriously, still frowning at him over the lid of his drink. 

“Am I?” Louis teases, making Harry blush to hide the fact that he’s blushing himself. “And whose dream guy am I, exactly, Harold?”

“Not mine,” Harry says too fast, beet red but grinning. “Obviously,” he tacks on, like it’ll help his case.

“Obviously?” Louis gasps, clutching at his chest in mock hurt. “What’s keeping me from being your dream guy, then?”

“How tall are you?” Harry asks, narrowing his eyes at him playfully.

“5’9”,” Louis says immediately, straightening up a bit as if to prove it.

“Yeah, see, that’s why you’re not my dream guy,” Harry winces, shrugging one shoulder. “My dream guy isn’t a liar.”

“Hey!” Louis shouts, throwing his rag at Harry. Harry laughs and dodges it, reaching down to pluck it off the floor and toss it back to him.

“I have to go, I’m running late this morning,” Harry says, backing away a few steps. “I’ll see you later?”

“Later, yeah,” Louis hums, smiling as Harry nearly bowls over an old woman as he continues to back away. “Try not to hurt anyone today, yeah?”

Harry giggles in his direction and then he’s off, pushing out the door and through the wind, down the street toward his campus. Louis watches him go until he crosses the street and turns the corner, and then finally gets back to work. He spends the rest of the shift and the next one smiling, again, and he tells himself it won’t become a thing.

Spring

The weather is warming up and while that may be good for Louis in terms of his heat problem, it also means that Easter is rapidly approaching, and he still doesn’t have a good excuse for why Shane can’t come meet his family. It’s not that he doesn’t want Shane to meet his family, it’s that he really, really, really doesn’t want Shane to meet his family. He only likes to bring people home when he’s really sure about them or thinks his family will really like them, and neither of those things are true in this case. 

He’s been using sex avoid the topic since Shane started asking about a month ago, but as the holiday grows nearer, Shane won’t quit. Louis’s too scared to break up with him now and ruin his whole Easter, so he’s holding out, but he’s not sure how much longer he’s going to be able to keep dodging it.

“Lou,” Shane says one night as they’re tucked up on the couch in Louis’s living room, watching some bad cooking show that Shane is obsessed with. “What are we doing about Easter, babe?”

“Um, dunno,” Louis shrugs, sipping at his tea for a long moment. “I was planning on going home,” he says quietly, staring at the mug in his hands as he swirls it around a bit.

Shane nods slowly, watching the tea as well. “Right. And, um, am I invited? You know I haven’t met your family yet.”

Louis met Shane’s parents last weekend. He hated them, mostly.

“Um,” Louis shrugs, taking another sip of tea. “I mean, I don’t know. Easter is a pretty sacred holiday in my house,” he lies, “no one really brings anyone unless they’re married.”

“Ah,” Shane nods again, frowning. “Bit odd. I didn’t know anyone took Easter that seriously,” he tries to joke.

“My step dad’s really religious,” Louis lies again, laughing awkwardly. 

“Oh,” Shane says gravely. Louis realizes too late what that sounds like, but Shane’s already getting soft and sympathetic. “Well, shit, Lou, you could have said that. I wouldn’t have kept asking,” he assures.

“It’s fine,” Louis chuckles weakly, regretting every choice he’s made up until this point.

“Does he know?” Shane asks, turning to face him. “That you’re gay?”

Louis hesitates, and then decides this is as good a reason as any for Shane to never meet his family. “Uh, no. No, he doesn’t,” he says sadly.

“Oh, baby,” Shane coos, dragging him into a hug. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah,” Louis winces into his chest, vowing in his mind to give Dan the biggest hug he can manage when he gets home for painting him in this light. “It’s alright.”

“Homophobes are the worst,” Shane mutters, rubbing Louis’s back like Louis is really actually upset or something.

“Can we not talk about it?” Louis sniffles theatrically. He always did want to be an actor, sort of.

“Of course, love,” Shane gushes, kissing his forehead wetly. Louis cringes a little internally. “Sorry I brought it up.”

“It’s okay,” Louis says, accepting Shane’s apology cuddle. In his defense, it’s still a bit chilly in his flat, and Shane’s actually not a bad cuddler.

There’s only about a week left until Easter, and then he gets to go home for a whole five days and not have to deal with work or his cold flat or his annoying boyfriend until he comes back. Harry and Gemma are going home to Cheshire for the holiday, as well, which Harry is definitely excited about. He told Louis all about it this morning at the cafe, while Louis was making him his heart attack coffee.

It’s nice how much Harry loves his family. Louis is very much the same; he would die for any single member of his household, and he knows they feel the same about him. Contrary to Shane’s beliefs, his family is actually overwhelmingly supportive, and he loves them beyond anything in the world. 

Shane leaves town the day before him. Louis drops him off at the train station, and then the next day leaves for his own family house. It’s quite a long drive but he doesn’t mind the time alone in the car, because it gives him an opportunity to reflect on what his life has become and what he plans to do with it when he returns from his bubble of family time. 

First things first, he’s got to dump Shane. Maybe then he can figure out how to deal with the Harry thing. Apart from the very obvious crushes they’ve developed on each other, there’s a new problem that’s arisen in the form of Harry wanting to be his roommate. He hasn’t come out and said it yet, but he’s been quite obvious.

The thing is, Harry finishes school in a couple of weeks. He’s been telling Louis that he doesn’t know yet what he wants to do at the end of the semester, if he wants to keep living with Gemma, go home, or maybe try to find a place of his own to stay in London. He keeps bringing up the fact that he’d need a roommate, but Louis doesn’t know how to tell him that he doesn’t think living together is a good idea.

As of right now, Louis still has a boyfriend, and living with a guy that he’s in maybe mutual love with that _isn’t_ his boyfriend probably isn’t the best idea. He’s been texting Harry ads from the newspaper for flats in the city for every time Harry mentions finding somewhere to stay, and playing dumb whenever Harry brings it up at all. As nice as it would be to have heat back and not have to struggle to pay rent all on his own, he just thinks Harry isn’t the best option for a roommate.

But for now, none of that matters. The second he pulls into his driveway he feels all of his stress melt away, and he plans to try his damnedest to keep it away as long as he’s here. He spends the day cuddled up and playing with his abundance of siblings and when he falls asleep that night, his shitty flat in London is the last thing he’s thinking about.

-

If Louis thought Shane was going to let him have a quiet holiday at home with his family, he was very, very wrong.

He’s been texting incessantly, calling every night and every morning, even though Louis hardly answers. Louis supposes he just wants to make sure Louis is okay, seeing as how he thinks his family is homophobic and evil, but Louis is just annoyed. He kind of can’t wait to get back to London and dump the guy and never have to read another text from him for as long as he lives.

He doesn’t actually tell anyone about Shane, and makes up stories when they ask who is texting him so often. When he finally leaves to head back to London a couple of nights later, they probably think he’s an undercover spy, or something.

He shuts his phone off for the drive home and spends the time singing along with the radio, and it seems like no time at all has passed before he pulls up to the curb outside his building and starts hauling his luggage up the stairs. His phone starts ringing as soon as he turns it on and he almost screams when he sees Shane’s name, but he answers it anyway.

“Oh, Louis, thank God,” Shane gushes, sounding distressed. “I thought something happened to you. Why haven’t you been answering my calls?”

“I was driving,” Louis says disinterestedly, dragging his bag to his bedroom and leaving it on the bed. “Turned my phone off.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay. I wish you had told me, though, I was worried,” Shane whines. Louis rolls his eyes. “Can I come over? I miss you,” he says.

“Actually, yeah,” Louis decides, walking back to the door and kicking his shoes off. “I need to talk to you.”

Shane goes silent for a moment, and then breathes loudly. “Um, okay. I’ll be there in a few minutes, yeah?”

Louis hangs up without saying anything else and tosses his phone onto the couch, opening up the fridge for something to drink and spying a rather rotten carton of milk.

“Ugh,” he groans, plucking it out of the fridge and giving it a sniff. It’s too rank to just dump down the drain, so he shuffles out into the hallway with it held at an arm’s length and brings it to the trash closet at the end of the corridor. Just as he’s heading back to let himself back into his flat, Gemma’s door swings open and Harry comes bumbling out.

“Lou!” he cheers, pulling Louis into a hug. “I thought I heard you come back. How was your Easter?”

“Amazing,” Louis grins, “when did you get back?”

“This morning,” Harry says, glancing back at Gemma’s flat. “I almost didn’t even want to come back. If it wasn’t for school, I probably wouldn’t have. And you, of course,” he pulls a goofy grin, reaching out to ruffle Louis’s hair. 

“Sweet, aren’t you,” Louis teases, pinching Harry’s cheeks. Harry giggles at him, and Louis grins. 

“Right, well, I’ll let you go unpack,” Harry says, shuffling back to Gemma’s door in his socks. “Just wanted to say hello.”

“See you, Hazza,” Louis hums, watching Harry disappear into Gemma’s flat before heading back into his own. He smiles to himself as he replays the interaction in his head, grabbing a beer from the fridge and going to plop down on the couch. He almost forgets that Shane is coming over until he knocks on the door, and Louis’s stomach does a nervous little flip for what he’s about to do.

He sighs as he opens the door, finding Shane with tears already streaming down his face. “You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you,” he whimpers, wiping angrily at his cheeks.

“Why don’t you come in?” Louis says gently, ignoring his question.

“What did I do?” Shane sobs, storming past him and into the kitchen. “I’ve been nothing but loving and supportive and you’ve been distant and bitchy, and now _you’re_ the one breaking up with _me_?”

“Look,” Louis says, speaking calmly in hopes Shane will do the same. “I’m sorry, it just isn’t working for me. You’re amazing, really, but I just don’t think I’m in the right place right now for a relationship like this,” he says.

Shane sobs loudly, covering his face with his hands. Louis shifts uncomfortably, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m sorry,” Shane wails suddenly, rushing toward him. “I can change, just tell me what to do and I’ll do it, please,” he cries.

“Shane, I’m-” Louis shakes his head, “I mean, I’m sorry. It’s not anything that you did or that you can do, I just, this isn’t what I want,” he explains.

Shane hugs him close and absolutely loses it, wailing and crying into his neck. Louis stands frozen in shock; he had no idea Shane was this in love with him, or that he would take it this bad.

“I will do anything,” Shane says, pulling his wet, snot-covered face out of Louis’s neck. Louis makes a mental note to throw this t-shirt in the bin. “Anything, Louis, I swear.”

“I think you should go,” Louis suggests quietly, pulling himself out of Shane’s arms. “Please.”

Shane screams, pulls at his own hair and flails a bit. Louis watches in horror as he picks up the beer bottle Louis left on the counter and hurls it at the floor, shards of glass and sticky alcohol covering the tiles. He storms out, then, slamming the door behind himself and leaving Louis confused and shaken in the middle of the mess.

He stares down at the broken glass for a bit, analyzing what the fuck just happened. On the bright side, Shane is finally out of his hair, but Louis feels awful that he took it so hard. Louis really didn’t mean to string him along or break his heart like that, but he thinks that’s exactly what he did.

After a moment his door cracks open, and he jumps. Harry’s curly head peeks in and Louis relaxes a bit, dropping his head back down to look at the mess on the floor.

“Are you okay?” Harry says gently, opening the door a little wider. “We heard shouting.”

“Yeah,” Louis says distractedly, frowning at his feet. Harry must be able to tell he’s still shaken up, though, because he opens the door the rest of the way and steps in carefully.

“What happened?” he asks, surveying the room and stepping carefully around the glass to get to Louis. Gemma is there too when Louis looks up, and Louis just shrugs.

“I broke up with Shane,” he says, his voice smaller than he expected it to sound. “He didn’t take it very well.”

“Oh, Lou,” Gemma coos. She has bare feet, so she stays at the door and reaches out for him as if beckoning him closer for a hug. Harry slips his too-big feet into Louis’s shoes that he left by the door and walks carefully over to him, giving him a little squeeze. 

“I can clean this up for you,” he offers, waiting until Louis meets his eyes. “Do you have a dustpan?”

“Um, under the kitchen sink,” Louis says, nodding towards it. “Thank you.”

“No worries,” Harry hums, giving him a smile and maneuvering his way around Louis and over to the sink. Louis steps carefully around the broken glass to where Gemma is still reaching for him at the door, letting her pull him into her arms. 

“Are you alright?” she asks quietly, combing her fingers through his hair. Her nails feel so nice; Louis almost wishes he liked girls just for the way their long nails feel against his scalp. 

“Yeah,” he says again. “I mean, I wasn’t even really that into him. I had no idea he was so into me,” he mutters.

Harry mumbles something from across the room that sounds a lot like _how could he not be?_ Louis decides not to read into it.

“Do you want us to stay?” Gemma asks, still playing with his hair. “Or do you want to come to mine? Or do you want us to leave you alone?” she hums, smiling when Louis pulls back to look at her.

“Company wouldn’t hurt,” Louis smiles back, glancing back at Harry as he sweeps up the glass. “Can we go to yours, though?”

“Course,” Gemma chirps, reaching for his hand and pulling him across the hallway to her door. She settles him on the couch and disappears for a moment, and when she comes back she’s got three glasses of wine.

“Thanks, Gem,” Louis says, accepting the glass carefully and taking a sip. Gemma settles down beside him and flicks on the telly, and a few minutes later Harry comes back from cleaning up the glass and joins them.

“I mopped up the beer as best I could,” he says, tucking himself into the corner of the sofa. “I might have missed a few spots, though, and it still smells like beer in there,” he says apologetically.

“That’s alright, thank you,” Louis hums, reaching over to squeeze his knee.

“You’re so quiet, I hate this,” Gemma whines, tugging him into her arms and forcing him to cuddle. “I want my loud, annoying neighbor back,” she teases.

“I’m fine, really,” Louis laughs, but he doesn’t pull away from the cuddle. He can see Harry watching them out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t turn to look. “I’m better off now, trust me. This was a huge relief,” he confesses.

“He wasn’t bad to you, was he?” Gemma asks, serious suddenly.

“Did he do anything to you?” Harry follows up, sitting up a bit.

“Woah, no,” Louis laughs, batting them both away. “No, nothing like that. He was just clingy and annoying and I really was never that into him in the first place, I think.”

“Good,” Harry says, leaning back into the sofa again. “I would have found him and killed him.”

“Easy, boy,” Gemma laughs. “You don’t even kill bugs. You scream until I do it.”

“Yeah, well, bugs don’t hurt my friends,” Harry argues.

“Neither did Shane,” Louis reminds, reaching out to poke Harry with his toe. “Now can we stop talking about it? I kinda wanna get wine drunk and watch a movie,” he suggests.

“Absolutely perfect idea, Lewis,” Gemma cheers, patting his head. “We should hang out far more than we do.”

“Agreed,” Louis hums, nuzzling his head into her hand when she starts to play with his hair again. 

Gemma’s apartment is so warm and pretty and cosy, Louis very nearly falls asleep in her lap. It’s only when she transfers him from her lap to Harry’s so she can go to bed that he realizes he might be a bit more wine drunk than he thought, and Harry’s lap is way more comfy than Gemma’s.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Harry tells him, carding his fingers through Louis’s hair in almost the same way Gemma did. His nails don’t feel as nice, but in a weird way it feels a thousand times better when Harry touches him than when Gemma did.

“Same,” Louis hums, tilting his head up to watch Harry take a sip of wine. “Thank you for coming to check on me. And cleaning up. And giving me wine.”

“That’s okay,” Harry giggles. He might be a little wine drunk too. “I’d do anything for you, Lou. We, I mean. Gemma and I, both,” he says, cheeks flushed just a bit.

“Thanks,” Louis grins, nuzzling into Harry’s hand and putting his head down on his chest. 

They make it to almost the end of the film they’re watching before Harry realizes the time. “I have class tomorrow, Lou,” he says regretfully, “I should get to bed.”

“Yeah, I should go home,” Louis mutters, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. “I’ve work in the morning, too.”

“You don’t have to go home,” Harry says, too quickly. Louis looks at him suspiciously, and Harry shakes his head. “I mean, you can stay here, if you want. Just in case.”

“Locks are a thing, Hazza,” Louis chuckles. “And I’m not afraid of him coming back for revenge. He wouldn’t do that.”

“I just want you to feel safe,” Harry assures, tucking Louis’s fringe away from his face and behind his ear. “If you feel safe here, I want you to stay. I know I would feel safer if you stayed here,” he admits.

Louis smiles sleepily, looking down at the couch he’s already laying on. “I suppose I could stay,” he mumbles. “But only because I’m already mostly asleep and it’s nice here.”

“Good,” Harry grins, collecting a throw pillow and a blanket from seemingly nowhere. He helps Louis arrange his makeshift bed, and pets his head goodnight before he sets off for his room.

Louis drains what’s left in his wine glass and watches the end of the film playing on the telly before he dozes off, warm and comfy and happier than he has any right to be at a time like this.

-

Harry’s in the home stretch of the semester, which apparently means he’s too busy to come in for his regular morning coffee the day after the breakup. Louis has grown so accustomed to their morning chats that he doesn’t know what to do with himself all day, even striking up a few awkward conversations with Maggie when he gets bored enough. He woke up in a funk that doesn’t leave him until he goes to bed that night, which he’s hoping can just be chalked up to the aftermath of the breakup.

The following day, though, Harry stops by the cafe after the morning rush, and coincidentally right as Louis is taking his first break. They sit together at the table Harry usually sits at when he stays, Louis munching on a leftover muffin and Harry sipping at the drink Louis made him.

“So,” Harry says, stealing a chunk of Louis’s muffin and popping it in his mouth. “I think I’m gonna go home for the summer.”

Louis freezes, holding a piece of muffin halfway in his mouth. “Home as in, like, Cheshire?” he blurts.

“Home as in, like, Cheshire,” Harry confirms playfully, watching Louis’s face.

“Why?” Louis asks, frowning when Harry shrugs.

“I mean,” Harry shrugs again, “I love living with Gemma and everything, and I love the city, but I want to start being a real adult, you know? Gemma won’t let me pay rent because she thinks she’s being charitable and if I go home I can get a summer job there and save up a bit and maybe get a place of my own for next semester,” he explains. “I’ve been thinking of staying here and just finding a roommate or something but that sounds like too much work,” he sighs.

Louis panics a bit then because, like, Harry can’t leave. Louis is pretty sure his terrible day yesterday can be attributed to the fact that the only conversation he had with Harry was over text while Harry was doing homework, how is Louis supposed to survive an entire summer without seeing him?

“Move in with me,” he says, before his brain has fully caught up with his mouth. Harry looks caught off guard, and Louis kicks himself mentally.

“What?” Harry laughs a bit unsurely, like he can’t tell if Louis is serious.

“Move in with me,” Louis repeats, more sure this time. “I need a roommate, and you need a place to stay, it’s perfect. You said you want a place of your own and like, this won’t be completely your own, but you’ll have your own room and side of the bathroom vanity,” he shrugs. “You can find a job here and you won’t have to live with your sister and you’ll already be all settled in by the time school starts.”

“That sounds perfect, actually,” Harry grins, taking a thoughtful sip of his drink. “Are you absolutely sure you want me?”

“Yes, of course,” Louis says immediately, definitely not watching the way Harry’s throat moves when he swallows.

“Okay,” Harry says, setting his drink down and looking up at Louis. “I’m moving in with you, then.”

“Yay!” Louis cheers, doing a happy little wiggle in his seat. “I should get back to work, but come over later and we’ll have a tour and talk about it, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, stealing one more piece of Louis’s muffin before Louis goes. Louis slides him whatever’s left of the muffin and gets up, tying his apron back around his waist as he ducks back under the counter. Harry stays for a bit longer before he heads off to class, and Louis spends the entire day wondering what it’s going to be like to be his roommate.

-

“So this’ll be your room,” Louis says, throwing open the door to the empty bedroom across from his own. “It’s exactly the same size as mine, and is equally as annoyingly far away from the toilet,” he explains.

“I love it,” Harry grins, throwing himself down on the unmade bed. Louis leans against the doorframe and watches him amusedly, waiting until he gets up to lead him down the corridor and to the small bathroom.

“I mean, I’m sure everything is more or less the same as Gemma’s, but yeah, tour pretty much concluded,” he shrugs.

“It’s perfect,” Harry assures him, grinning brightly at Louis. “Plus I get to live here with you, which I’m sure is a blast.”

“You’d think so,” Louis laughs, “but wait until you’ve seen me sitting on the couch eating take away crying over romance movies a couple times, the illusion will be shattered.”

“Nonsense, that sounds like even more fun than I was anticipating,” Harry teases, laughing much louder than he has any right to when Louis mimes crying into a plate of food.

“Sounds like we’re a perfect match then,” Louis says. He holds out his hand for a fist bump to make his statement sound just a little less gay, but Harry goes straight in for a hug.

“It’s gonna be so fun,” he says earnestly, squeezing Louis’s shoulders. “When should I move in?”

“Whenever you want,” Louis shrugs. “Rent is due a week from this Friday, if that helps your decision.”

“I think I’ll wait until after school is done?” Harry says. “I think trying to move while also studying for finals might break me. Plus, I don’t have a job yet to even help you pay rent. I’ll finish my finals, find a job, and then I’ll move in,” he decides.

“Sounds perfect,” Louis says. “I’m so excited to have a roommate again. And heat,” he sighs wistfully.

“I know, it’s gonna be great,” Harry laughs, squeezing his shoulder again. “Anyway, speaking of school, I should probably go get some work done,” he says. “I have three essays due by Thursday, wish me luck.”

“Luck, fortune, and alcohol, my friend,” Louis says, patting Harry’s back as he opens the door for him. “Those are the things you should be asking for.”

He heads back to the empty bedroom once Harry is gone, standing in the doorway and imagining how nice the room will look filled with all of Harry’s things. It’ll be so nice to finally have someone to be with all the time, someone who is literally forced to hang out with him, and someone to share meals and free time with. He thinks that what makes it all better is that it’s not just someone, it’s Harry, and Louis wouldn’t want to hang out with anyone else.

Maybe he’s still a bit concerned about the fact that they’re pretty much probably completely a little in love with each other, but he can ignore that for now. Whatever happens will happen, but in this moment he’s happy, and he’ll take that.

Summer

“Honey, I’m home!” Louis screeches, barreling through the door and straight into the kitchen, where Harry is bent over a bowl on the worktop.

“Will you ever come home without giving me a heart attack?” Harry sighs, flashing his dirty, raw-chicken-y hands when Louis comes over for an apologetic hug. “No hugs, I’ll give you salmonella.”

“Ew,” Louis scurries away, hoisting himself up on the worktop beside Harry’s bowl of chicken. “What are we having?”

“Chicken,” Harry says, slowly and deliberately like Louis is an idiot. “You know those things in your head? They’re called eyes. Sometimes you can use them to infer things,” he says.

“You’re mean,” Louis pouts, jumping down off the worktop and pinching Harry’s hip. “What crawled into your arse and died today?”

“My sanity,” Harry grumbles, slamming a chicken breast into his bowl of breadcrumbs. “Do you know what Kelly did today? Do you?”

“No, on account of I don’t work there, and I don’t know who the hell Kelly is” Louis chuckles, amused when Harry huffs and flicks his hair back.

“She brought three children, _three children_ , to the bathroom at the same time, and then _left_ them there,” Harry growls, shaking his head. “Absolutely ridiculous. Who qualified this woman to work with children? We’re a bloody private daycare, do you know how much people pay to send their kids to us? For them to be left in a bathroom by some _imbecile_?” he squawks.

“Why did she leave them there?” Louis frowns. “Did she do it on purpose?”

“She left with three children and came back with one,” Harry explains, giving Louis a look. “And claimed she didn’t bring any others with her. We thought she’d bloody murdered them until she remembered she took John and Sophie as well,” he says.

“What an idiot,” Louis laughs, watching Harry brutally cover another chicken breast in breadcrumbs. “I’m gonna go shower, how long until dinner’s ready?”

“Half hour, probably,” Harry mutters, still grumbling to himself about Kelly.

Louis tries not to laugh out loud as he walks away, endeared by how seriously Harry takes his job. He knows he loves working at the daycare, even though he’s only worked there a short time. He always comes home with stories and funny things the kids told him, and he’s always sure to mention how happy he is there. Louis knows he wouldn’t give a flying fuck about what Kelly did if he didn’t absolutely love his job, and the kids there. It’s so sweet, how excited he gets to go work in the morning when they have breakfast together.

They’ve kind of put the whole liking each other thing on the back burner, at least for now. They’re in a really good place with the apartment and their respective jobs, and dating might complicate things or make the limited amounts of time they spend together more stressful if they’re paying attention to making it mean something. Harry works from 9 in the morning until 2, and Louis is at the cafe from noon until 6, so the only time they really see each other is breakfast and dinner, and Louis sometimes picks up odd shifts on the weekends and Harry might start nannying for one of the families from the daycare for the rest of the summer. They’re happy though, both of them.

When school starts back up Harry’s going to be cutting back his hours at the daycare so he can go to class, which means Louis might have to pick up a few more hours at the cafe to fill in the blank spots. It’ll be nothing like it was in the winter, though, which is good. Louis doesn’t think he could handle another winter like that.

Harry’s setting the table once Louis is showered and dressed, and Louis trots over to follow him around and pester him while he does it, trying to put a smile back on his face.

“What else happened at work today?” Louis asks, getting in Harry’s way on purpose when he tries to reach for the plates. “Idiot Kelly can’t be the only story you have for me.”

Harry smiles a little, shoving Louis out of the way to get the plates. “Um, remember that little girl that wanted to marry me last week?”

“The sweet one, or the bratty one?” Louis scoffs.

“The sweet one,” Harry grins. “She made a wedding dress for herself and a bowtie for me out of construction paper today, and then cried when I said that weddings weren’t allowed at daycare.”

“Heartbreaker, Styles,” Louis laughs, poking at Harry’s chest. “She’s gonna grow up hating men now, because of you.”

Harry honks a laugh, swatting at Louis with a fork. “I hardly think that-”

They both freeze when Louis’s phone goes off on the worktop, the loud ding echoing through the flat. Louis’s face falls and he blinks, turning around to snatch it and keeping his back to Harry while he reads the text.

Harry goes quiet, setting the rest of the table silently. Louis reads the text over a few times and sighs, dropping the phone back on the worktop and rubbing at his eyes tiredly.

“I thought you blocked his number?” Harry says quietly, peering at Louis from across the table when Louis turns around.

“I did,” Louis mutters, grabbing the phone and unlocking it to look at the text again. “He’s resorted to using his friends’ phones now, apparently.”

“What the fuck,” Harry scoffs, shaking his head. “What a fucking prick. Why can’t he just go away?”

“I know,” Louis groans, handing the phone over for Harry to see the text. “We’ve been broken up nearly as long as we were dating,” he says.

Harry’s face darkens as he reads the text, his jaw setting. “What the actual fuck,” he breathes, blocking the number for Louis and deleting the message. “I mean, I know it must suck to lose you, but how could anyone be so awful to someone as sweet as you?”

Louis blinks, watching Harry’s face for a moment. Harry flushes a little and hands the phone back, and Louis looks down at his feet. As hard as they try to ignore the feelings they have for each other, they both slip up sometimes like that, and it takes a moment to come back from it.

“So um,” Louis says eventually, leaving his phone on the worktop and plopping down into his seat at the table. “About that three year old whose heart you broke?”

Harry laughs and rolls his eyes, launching into another story about the kids at work. Louis forgets all about the message and eventually dinner is ready and they eat while continuing to swap stories, and later they end up camped out on the couch with a glass of wine each and a film on the telly.

Louis’s phone dings a few times throughout the evening, but he doesn’t even think about it again. Shane has been texting him horrible things for a couple weeks now, almost as long as Harry’s been living with him, but Louis’s doing his best not to let it get to him. Harry knows most of it, except for the stuff Louis doesn’t tell him, which is the stuff Shane says about Harry.

Shane still blames Harry for breaking them up, even though Louis has assured him time and time again that it wasn’t his fault, that nothing has even happened between them. Harry goes to bed before him and Louis follows soon after, because it’s boring being anywhere Harry isn’t.

Yeah, maybe Shane has a point.

-

It’s hot as hell outside, which means it’s even hotter inside the cafe. The manager insists on keeping the windows open in the summer to let the fresh air in, but this air isn’t fresh, it’s stifling. Louis is drowning in his own sweat by the time his shift ends, and he about keels over and dies on the short walk home. 

Harry is lounging on the couch in nothing but pants when Louis walks in, fanning himself with a magazine and looking like some kind of dream. If Louis wasn’t literally melting, he’d be tempted to go lay down on top of him.

“You look like hell,” Harry says, watching as Louis shuffles to the fridge to put his head in the freezer. Louis just grunts in response and leans his head against a bag of frozen peas, sighing at how nice it feels against his burning flesh.

“No air con, windows open, all day,” Louis wheezes eventually, pulling himself away from the freezer and plopping down on the sofa beside where Harry is now sitting up. “It’s a miracle I’m still alive.”

“So dramatic,” Harry laughs, petting at Louis’s sweaty hair. Louis grimaces, but Harry just keeps smiling. “Why don’t you go take a cold shower, and we can go get ice cream for dinner, or something?”

“Deal,” Louis says, getting up immediately and heading to the bathroom. Harry laughs until Louis is closed behind the toilet door, grinning to himself.

They walk down the block to the ice cream shop they both like, the one Louis introduced Harry to in the beginning of the summer. There’s only a few weeks now until Harry goes back to school, and Louis is making the most of the free time they still have together.

“I just don’t understand why ice cream isn’t a more widely accepted option for dinner,” Louis says, licking at the steady stream dribbling down the side of his cone. “Seems perfectly good to me.”

“It’s not exactly very nutritious,” Harry muses, watching Louis make a mess of himself. “Not that you care about nutrition.”

“I do too care about nutrition!” Louis argues. “Look, this has got your dairy, the nuts are protein, chocolate chips are sugar, and, like… I’m sure you can find everything in here that you’d find in a balanced diet,” he says.

“Good point,” Harry says sarcastically, laughing when Louis sticks his tongue out at him. “So, um, I’m thinking of going home for a couple weeks.”

Louis freezes a little, licking slowly at his ice cream. “Yeah?” he hums, trying to be casual, glancing over at Harry.

“Yeah,” Harry nods. “I miss my friends, and my parents. It’ll just be a week or two, I’ll obviously be back before school starts,” he says. 

“You’re not gonna run off and leave me?” Louis pouts dramatically, batting his eyelashes at Harry. Harry laughs and shoves him gently, shaking his head.

“No, never,” he assures. “Just a week or two, and I’m sure I’ll miss you like crazy the whole time.”

Louis keeps pouting a little, and Harry leans forward to wrap his arms around him and coo in his face. Louis grunts and pushes him away, fanning at his face. “Too hot, Hazza,” he moans.

“I know I am,” Harry says, winking when Louis looks at him. Louis groans loudly and gets up from the picnic table they’re sitting at, making to walk away.

“Don’t leave me!” Harry crows, laughing as he stumbles out of his seat and chases after him. “I”m sorry!”

“I don’t know you,” Louis says, walking a little faster down the pavement. Harry catches up with him and grabs his wrist, twirling him around so they’re chest to chest.

Louis’s breath catches in his throat, Harry’s face an inch away from his face. Harry looks scandalized for a reason Louis cannot comprehend, and his heart sinks a little.

“You absolute wanker,” Harry huffs, pulling away and letting go of Louis’s wrist. Louis blinks and opens his mouth to apologize, until he realizes what’s wrong.

He has an empty cone in his hand, and there’s a massive ice cream stain on Harry’s tank top.

He bursts out laughing, doubling over in the middle of the pavement and howling. Harry grumbles at him and grabs him by the arm, pulling back down the street to the ice cream shop to collect some napkins. Louis keeps laughing as Harry cleans himself up, until Harry turns to scowl at him.

“That was completely your fault,” Louis giggles, pointing his finger accusingly at Harry. “You know it was.”

“I know,” Harry mutters, throwing the napkins away and grabbing Louis’s arm again to tug him off down the street again.

Louis laughs the whole way home, and then some, and he forgets all about the fact that Harry is leaving him for two weeks.

-

Louis absolutely cannot do this. Harry’s only been gone two days, which means there are twelve days until he comes back, and Louis is bored out of his mind.

What the fuck did he do when he was between roommates? He had a boyfriend then, he supposes, and he did a lot of sleeping to fight the cold. He thinks maybe he should get another boyfriend, one that isn’t Harry, so maybe they can stop having these awkward, _is-this-only-sexual-for-me_ moments like the other day leaving the ice cream shop. 

He rolls off his bed, where he’s been sprawled with a fan on him since he came home from work, and stands in front of the mirror on his door. He’s glistening with sweat, hair stuck to his forehead, his skin red and splotchy. No way he’s getting a boyfriend anytime soon, looking like this.

Harry moved in just in time for Louis to not need heat anymore, and there’s no central air system in this bloody building. They can’t afford the ones that sit in the windows and those hardly work, anyway, so they just have upright fans in every corner of every room, which don’t really make a difference either, to be honest. Maybe Louis should go home for a bit too, while Harry is gone, but then again he won’t be able to get the time off work, and he really needs the money.

He thinks for a moment about going out tonight, trying to meet someone, find someone new to date. It would be nice; Louis quite likes being in a relationship, and the attention is always welcome. The more he thinks about it, though, he can’t imagine himself dating someone right now, can’t imagine having a boyfriend and bringing him back here, where Harry lives too. He feels like it would be cheating on Harry, even though Harry isn’t his boyfriend. His stomach twists a little; god, it would be nice if Harry was his boyfriend.

In the end he texts Gemma, because if he can’t hang out with Harry, he supposes she’s the next best thing. 

She invites him over to hers, thankfully, where she can afford actual air conditioning. It’s nice and cool when he walks in, drying the sweat on his brow almost immediately, and he just about hugs her in thanks.

“So, you miss Harry,” Gemma states, handing Louis a beer and settling down beside him on the sofa with one of her own. It’s not a question, she already knows the answer, and Louis nods.

“Yeah, the place is so empty without him,” Louis pouts. “I miss having my dinner buddy.”

Gemma chuckles softly, shaking her head. “He talks about you relentlessly, you know,” she says. “Even before he moved in with you. You’d think you were his only friend,” she jokes.

Louis blinks slowly, sipping at his beer. This is new information, but very welcome information. “Yeah?” he hums casually. “What does he say?”

“Anything,” Gemma shrugs. “And everything. What you said that made him laugh, what movie you watched after dinner, the stories you tell him from work. Every time I’m with him, it’s like all he wants to talk about is you. It’s kinda cute,” she grins.

Louis splutters a bit, pretending he’s choking on his beer instead of her words. “Cute?”

“Yeah, it’s like he has a little crush on you,” she hums. Louis just blinks at her and Gemma rolls her eyes, giving him a look. “C’mon, don’t act like you haven’t noticed. Or that you don’t have a crush on him as well,” she says.

Louis scoffs, downing a bit more of his drink to hide the fact that he’s blushing. “We’re friends, Gemma,” he says. He’s not sure if that’s an excuse or an explanation. “And roommates.”

“Good,” Gemma says. “That should make it easier, I would think?”

“No, like,” Louis groans, rubbing at his face. “We don’t talk about it. We’re just friends,” he tries.

Gemma watches him for a moment, and then takes a long sip of her drink. Louis groans again and Gemma laughs, reaching over to pat his knee.

“Talk about it, then,” she suggests. “Harry’s never really had a serious relationship, he’s never found anyone that he likes enough. But he likes you Louis,” she says honestly. “He might even be a little bit in love with you.”

Louis shouts, covering his ears. “No! We’re friends!” he shrieks. “Please don’t make this weird for me, we still have to live together,” he pleads.

“I hardly think dating will make living together more difficult,” Gemma laughs. “Don’t be thick.”

“We’re not gonna date, Gemma,” Louis says firmly, finishing his beer and getting up to throw it away. “I’m never hanging out with you again, by the way.”

Gemma whines, and it sounds so similar to Harry that Louis’s heart aches. Fuck.

“Lou,” she says, reaching over the back of the sofa for him. “I do nothing but give you free beer and advice, what more could you ask of me?” she grins.

“More beer,” Louis says, stealing another from her fridge, “less advice.”

“Alright, fine, no more advice,” Gemma rolls her eyes, beckoning him back over to the sofa. They’re quiet for a moment, until Gemma cocks her head at him. “One more piece of advice?”

“Gemma!” Louis yells, but he can’t help but laugh when Gemma laughs.

“Please just talk to him about it,” she says, reaching out to squeeze his arm. “You never know, it could end up being good,” she says.

“Or I could end up losing my second roommate in less than a year,” Louis says, pouting and settling back into the couch. “I just- I don’t know. I definitely realize that we both like each other but it just seems unlikely that anything will ever come of it,” he says. 

“I think Harry would disagree,” Gemma says. “If you’d bloody talk to him about it.”

Louis fidgets with his beer bottle for a moment, shrugging one shoulder. “I really don’t know, Gemma,” he sighs.

“Alright, fine, I’ll stop talking about it,” Gemma finally relents, rolling her eyes at him. “But remember this conversation when he comes back from home,” she says.

“I’m going to remember this conversation every time I close my eyes, you bitch,” Louis mutters, rubbing at his face again. Gemma laughs and flops over into him, demanding to be cuddled in a way that reminds him, with another painful ache in his chest, of Harry. 

Fuck, Gemma’s right, and they both know it. But Louis has no idea how he’s going to start that conversation with Harry.

-

Harry comes back two weeks later with a tan and a happy, relaxed vibe, and Louis is still freaking out about the conversation he had with Gemma.

They fall back into their nightly routine like nothing ever happened, dinner and a film and bed and then breakfast the next morning. It’s so good, really, but Louis can’t help but find himself wondering repeatedly what it would be like if they got a little closer on the sofa, went to bed in the same room, woke each other up with soft touches and softer kisses.

If Harry notices that Louis is having a small mental breakdown, he doesn’t say anything. He seems as relaxed as ever, even though the beginning of the semester is rapidly approaching. Louis wants to take some of that serene energy for himself, but every time he gets close enough to try, he pictures himself leaning in and kissing Harry on the mouth and he freaks out again. 

“Lou,” Harry says from the other end of the couch, peering at him over the top of his laptop. Louis jumps a little and focuses on him instead of the telly, raising his eyebrows. “I’m just wondering,” Harry says, “when you flush a toilet on a boat, where does it go?”

Louis blinks at him once, eyebrows pulling together slowly. “What? The fuck?”

“Like,” Harry frowns, closing his laptop and putting it on the coffee table. “Does it just get dropped into the ocean? Or does it stay in the boat and they have to empty it sometimes?”

“Harry,” Louis mutters, scrubbing his hands down his face. “What is wrong with you?”

“I’m just wondering!” Harry laughs, kicking at Louis’s leg gently. “It seems mean to just release your shit into the ocean, but I suppose that’s what the fish do, right? Does human shit disrupt the ecosystem of the ocean?” he asks, nudging Louis’s thigh until Louis looks at him.

“I’m going to bed,” Louis says, throwing the remote at Harry and shuffling to his room. Harry laughs the entire time and Louis can’t help but smile along as well, not that he’ll ever let Harry know.

He falls into bed and buries his face in his pillow, resisting the urge to scream. He’s fucking in love with Harry Styles, Gemma was right, and he has no idea what he’s going to do about it.

Fall

Louis mutes the tv and frowns, straining a little to listen for the sound of a voice, sounding distant and muffled. It’s quiet for a moment, but then finally the voice speaks again, and Louis’s ears perk with recognition.

“Fucking stupid,” Harry is muttering, holed up in his room. “Doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

Harry’s in his last year of uni now, which means everything in his life is about ten times harder. He’s more stressed than Louis’s ever seen him, and as much as Louis tries to help, there’s really nothing he can do.

He glances at the time on his phone, realizing it’s nearing 8pm and they still haven’t had dinner. It doesn’t seem as though Harry’s going to take a break from his ridiculous amount of homework any time soon to come and make something, though, so Louis pushes up off the couch and pads to the kitchen to see if they have anything that he can make. Maybe he should learn to cook, he thinks, pushing a few jars and boxes around in the cupboards. 

Eventually he finds a box of waffle mix and settles on it, whipping together all of the ingredients listed on the side of the box and pulling out the waffle iron that Harry stole from his parents last time he was home. He thinks maybe the smell of the waffles cooking will lure Harry out of his room, but when Louis has a stack of waffles on two plates fifteen minutes later, Harry is still nowhere to be seen.

He takes a plate and shuffles to Harry’s room, cracking the door open and peeking in. He knocks gently with his free hand and Harry whips around from where he’s sitting at his desk, hands in his hair.

“Hi,” Louis smiles, pushing the rest of the way through the door and extending the plate of waffles to Harry. “Hungry? I made dinner,” he says.

“Waffles aren’t dinner, Louis,” Harry says, but he already seems to be easing up, shoulders relaxing a little.

“Of course they are,” Louis grins, setting the plate down on the one tiny square of free space on Harry’s desk, frowning at all of his books. “What the hell are you even doing?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Harry grumbles, turning back to his notebook and scribbling something down. Louis watches him for a moment, eyes flicking between Harry’s face and his work.

“Um, do you want to take a break and come eat with me? I’m lonely,” he says, trying to sound like he’s kidding. Harry just shakes his head, though, and Louis’s heart sinks.

“Sorry, Lou, I really can’t stop focusing on this,” he says. “If I stop now I’ll never get going again, and I cannot afford to fail this class.”

Louis nods, pursing his lips a little. “Okay, well, eat your waffles, yeah? I’ll be deeply offended if I find them in the bin tomorrow,” he says, ruffling Harry’s hair.

“Yeah,” Harry mutters, ignoring him for a moment in favor of drawing a few arrows in his notebook. “Thanks, by the way,” he says, glancing up at Louis. “For bringing me food.”

Louis just smiles at him and lets himself out of the room, closing the door quietly behind himself. He brings his own plate of waffles to the sofa and finally unmutes the tv, but he only eats about a half a waffle before he tosses them in the bin. He’s not very hungry, anyway; he really only enjoys dinner when Harry’s eating with him.

He turns in early, mostly because he’s got to be up at the crack of dawn for work. He’s back to working double shifts since Harry cut down on his hours at the daycare, but it’s fine. Harry is way too busy with school to worry about working, too, and Louis understands that. Harry is just as overworked and stressed and miserable as Louis is at the moment.

Except, Louis thinks, Harry’s actually working for something. At the end of this, he’s gonna come out with a degree and probably a job and a really good life, and where is Louis going to be by then? Still here, probably, working all day at a job he hates until he has no time left to do what he actually wants to do.

He wants to write; that’s what he went to school for, that’s what he’s always dreamed of, and that’s what he’s passionate about. He has no time, though, and when he does have time he’s too exhausted to be creative, and everything he writes is shit. Maybe he can start writing instead of sleeping some nights, with an excess of coffee, and try and sell some of the stuff that doesn’t suck. Then he can start earning money off of that, and he can afford to cut back his hours at the cafe, and then he’ll have even more time to write and more stuff to sell. It sounds like a fever dream, honestly, but it might be worth a shot.

He drifts off quickly, more exhausted than he thought he was. The light across the hall doesn’t turn out for another long few hours, but Louis isn’t awake to see when Harry comes in to show him that he did in fact eat all of the waffles Louis made him.

-

His writing instead of sleeping plan works for about a week, and by then Louis is so worn out and frustrated and hopeless he thinks he’s on the verge of a complete breakdown.

Harry is trying to be supportive, bless him, reading everything Louis writes and gushing about how good it is. Louis doesn’t have the time to spruce it up to send it to a publisher or even post it online, though, because most nights he’s so tired he falls asleep on his laptop and the next morning finds he’s still not satisfied with his final product.

Every second he spends at the cafe feels like another second he spends hurtling toward death, at this point, and he’s beginning to loathe it. It’s such a waste of time, honestly, and all it does is sap him of his energy and send him home with just barely enough money to pay for the bit of the rent that Harry can’t afford at the moment. It only takes until about October before everything comes crashing down, and Louis decides he can’t do it anymore.

Harry is studying at the kitchen table when Louis comes home, but he jumps when Louis slams the door. Harry just watches him wearily for a moment and then Louis breaks, throwing his bag to the floor and sobbing once.

“Hey,” Harry says, getting up and rushing to him. Louis doesn’t actually cry but Harry holds him tight anyway, steering him over to the sofa and forcing him into a cuddle. “You okay?”

“No,” Louis mutters, head stuck in the crook of Harry’s neck. “I’m losing my fucking mind, Harry.”

Harry frowns, rubbing Louis’s back gently. “You’re working too hard,” he says pulling back to look at  
Louis’s face.

Louis just huffs, closing his eyes and nuzzling back into Harry’s embrace. “I can’t do it,” he says, quiet, defeated. “I’m sorry. I can’t do it.”

Harry is quiet for a moment, chin resting on top of Louis’s head while he rubs his palm up and down Louis’s spine. “What?”

“I can’t!” Louis screeches suddenly, ripping himself out of Harry’s arms and standing up. “I cannot live like this! I’m fucking dying, Harry, I’m miserable and working myself to death and for what? For what?” he all but screams.

Harry just blinks at him, not quite meeting his eyes. He’s startled, Louis can tell, by the outburst. Louis slumps a little and Harry stands up, gingerly touching his shoulder.

“Why don’t you lay down?” Harry suggests, guiding him back toward the sofa. “And I’ll start dinner?”

“I’m gonna go home,” Louis says, sitting down when Harry prompts him to. “Just for a bit. I can’t- I can’t do this anymore.”

Harry blinks at him again, and suddenly he looks much more worried. “If that’s what you need to do,” he says, but he’s sad.

“Sorry,” Louis breathes, closing his eyes. “I’m burnt the fuck out, Haz.”

“I know,” Harry says, sitting down beside him and pulling him close with one arm. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be back in time to pay the rent for next month,” Louis says.

“Don’t worry about that,” Harry tells him. “I can get Gemma to help out, if I need to.”

“No,” Louis shakes his head, leaning into Harry tiredly. “I’ll be back.”

“Okay,” Harry hums, leaning his cheek against the top of Louis’s head. They stay like that for a moment, until finally Harry pulls away and stands up again. “I’m gonna start dinner.”

“Okay,” Louis mumbles, laying down across the sofa once Harry walks away. He almost drifts off in the time it takes Harry to make two plates of pasta, but somehow he’s still conscious when Harry comes back to join him on the sofa.

“You look exhausted,” Harry pouts, helping Louis sit up and take the plate. “You’re not gonna go to work tomorrow, right?”

“Gonna call in tonight and tell them I have a family emergency,” Louis says. “Gonna leave when I wake up tomorrow.”

Harry nods slowly, staring down at the plate in his lap while he eats. Louis almost feels guilty for needing a break, but then Harry smiles at him again.

“It’s good that you’re taking a break,” he admits. “Sometimes it’s good to just take care of yourself,” he says.

“Mm,” Louis agrees, stuffing a forkful of pasta into his mouth. He doesn’t say anything else, and Harry doesn’t either. They eat the rest of their meal in relative silence, but it’s not uncomfortable. Harry takes Louis’s plate for him when he’s finished and brings it to the sink, while Louis drags himself to the shower.

He doesn’t spend long in the shower, too physically exhausted to even bother washing his hair. He falls into bed still mostly wet, grabbing his phone to text his boss and tell her that he’s going to be out of work for a few weeks because of a family emergency. He doesn’t stay awake long enough to see her answer, conking out only a few minutes later.

-

The drive home sucks; there’s traffic and asshole drivers and rain and Louis is cranky and just wants a hug from his mum and to lay around with the dogs all day. 

His mum meets him at the door when he gets there, and Louis gets the hug he’s been craving for a few days now. They’re just sitting down to dinner, she says, and takes him by the elbow to bring him to the dining room.

Eating dinner with his family is always entertaining, and by the end of the meal, he can hardly remember why he was even upset when he got here. The younger twins snuggle up with him on the sofa and fall asleep on his lap and Lottie’s boyfriend turns on an old football match, and Louis knows that coming home was exactly what he needed.

“So,” Lottie says, sitting down beside him on the sofa, careful of the sleeping toddlers. “What made you come home?” she asks.

“Missed you lot, for some reason,” Louis grins, reaching an arm out to pull her into his side. “I don’t know. Life has me stressed,” he admits.

“How’s your new roommate?” Lottie asks, nuzzling against his shoulder. She’s probably getting makeup on his track jacket, but he’s too fond too care.

“He’s good,” Louis says, smiling a little when he thinks of Harry. “He was sad that I left,” he chuckles.

“Aw,” Lottie coos, looking up at him. “You’re good friends?”

“Uh, yeah,” Louis nods slowly. Lottie perks up, and Louis sighs.

“That sounded insincere,” she pokes at his side, making him jump. “What? Are you not friends? Are you _more_ than friends?” she asks excitedly.

“No, and no,” Louis laughs, shoving her away gently. “We’re just friends, I swear. God, why does everything think we should date?”

“I don’t even know him!” Lottie says. “But who else thinks you should date?”

“His sister,” Louis rolls his eyes. “I’ve known her for a while, and she thinks we’re secretly in love with each other,” he explains.

“Well, are you?” Lottie presses, grinning madly.

“No!” Louis whines, dropping his head back against the sofa. “Will everyone stop asking me that?”

“You’re blushing,” Lottie giggles, poking his cheek. “Tommy, look, he’s blushing.”

Tommy hardly glances over, but he nods. “Can confirm,” he mumbles, focusing back on the telly.

“I’m not!” Louis argues, pushing Lottie away again. “You’re annoying,” he complains, looking down at where Doris is sprawled across his lap, deciding that she is in fact his favorite sister.

“I can hear you naming Doris your favorite sister in your head,” Lottie snorts, punching his arm. “Whatever, die alone for all I care,” she hums, moving over to cuddle up to Tommy instead.

Louis watches her for a moment, watching the way Tommy’s hand curls around her knee distractedly, like he doesn’t even notice. Louis should feel grossed out that someone is touching his sister like that, but instead, he’s just a little sad. God, he wants that. He wants someone to cuddle up to, someone to wrap their hand around his knee without thinking about it, someone to kiss the top of his head like Tommy does to Lottie a moment later. 

He shifts Doris in his lap and lays her head on his chest instead of his thigh, letting Ernie rest more fully on his lap. He hugs his arms around Doris and rests his chin on her head, staring at the telly without really taking anything in.

Maybe he should try and talk to Harry. Maybe when he gets back he’ll finally have the courage.

-

A week and a half passes before Louis even notices, and he’s driving back to London again. He’s almost kind of dreading getting back into the swing of things, even though he’s finally happy and well-rested and not stressed to the point of insanity. He takes the longest route back to London, singing along with the radio the whole way, and it’s almost 10pm before he finally gets back to his flat.

He lugs his bags up the stairs and wrestles his key of his back pocket, but when he tries the door he finds it’s already open. He frowns as he pushes inside, pulling his bags along with him, glancing around the darkened flat.

It’s a mess, quite frankly. There are pizza boxes piled up on the coffee table and empty water and beer bottles scattered around, paper and notebooks and textbooks lying forgotten on the floor. Harry is on the sofa, looking somewhat like he’s in a coma, staring blankly at the tv screen.

“Hey, Hazza,” Louis says wearily, rounding the couch to look down at him. “What’s going on?”

Harry blinks and looks up at him, and for a second, Louis thinks Harry is going to yell at him. There’s a wild look in his eye, like he’s absolutely crazed, but instead of yelling he just bursts into tears.

Louis flinches a little and then rushes to him, sitting down beside him and gathering him into his arms. “What’s wrong, what happened?” Louis coos, petting at Harry’s dirty hair, letting him cry into his shoulder.

“I’m stressed,” Harry all but wails. “I had midterms and they were so hard and I’ve been so fucking stressed this whole week and they’re over but I’m still-” he hiccups and takes a deep breath, rubbing his nose on Louis’s shirt. “And I missed you and I was lonely and Gemma tried help but it’s not the same because she’s not you and you make me feel better all the time even by just being here and I’m so tired,” he sobs.

Louis pouts sympathetically, holding Harry tight and rocking him back and forth a little. “Sorry, love, I would’ve come back sooner if I’d known-”

“No, that would have been awful of me to ask,” Harry sniffles, sitting up a little and wiping at his face. “I just- I want to quit school. I’m so tired and it’s so horrible and I want to be done,” he whimpers, face screwing up like he’s going to lose it again.

“No, no, no,” Louis shakes his head, pulling him back into his arms immediately. “You’ve come this far, Haz, and it’s almost over, you can’t give up now,” he reasons.

“No,” Harry chokes out. “I can’t do it. I’ll just work at the daycare forever,” he sobs.

“Nope,” Louis chirps, rubbing Harry’s back. “Not gonna happen. You’re gonna finish school and you’re gonna do amazing and then it’s gonna be over and imagine how proud of yourself you’re going to be,” he says.

Harry doesn’t answer, just keeps crying into his shoulder for a bit. Louis shifts them to lean back against the sofa, pulling Harry mostly into his lap, letting him cry for as long as he needs to. Eventually he scratches his nails against Harry’s scalp, twisting to try and look at his face.

“Harry,” he says, quietly. Harry’s cries have softened somewhat, but he whimpers as he looks up. “Is that all that’s going on?”

Harry blinks at him, his eyes red and watery and strikingly green. “What do you mean?”

“Are you sure school is the only thing that has you this stressed out?” Louis asks, moving his hand from Harry’s hair to rub at his back again.

Harry shrivels immediately, squeezing his eyes shut and burying his face in Louis’s chest. Louis frowns and holds him tight, trying to ease the shaking of his body.

“I don’t wanna say it,” Harry whines after a minute, trembling hand curled in Louis’s shirt. Louis remembers the way he felt looking at Tommy’s hand on Lottie’s knee, wonders if it’s wrong for him to feel like this is somewhat the same.

“Why not, love?” Louis hums, heart speeding up for a reason it fails to disclose to his brain. 

“What if I say it and it ruins everything?” Harry worries, peeking up at him again. Louis gives him a little smile, combing his hair out of his face.

“I hardly think it’ll ruin everything,” he says. Apparently his mouth is in on the secret, as well, but Louis is still terribly confused.

 

“How do you know?” Harry frowns, making to sit up again. Louis holds him in place.

“Try me,” he breathes.

Harry hesitates, and then whispers, so softly Louis hardly even hears, “I’m in love with you.”

Louis blinks, staring down at him for a long moment. His heart is screaming at him to do something but he feels frozen, blinking once more at Harry’s worried face.

Harry starts to get distressed, breathing out sharply and trying to wriggle out of Louis’s arms. Louis doesn’t let him go, though, sets his jaw and holds him firm, and finally Harry looks back up at him. Louis doesn’t give him time to look worried or ask what’s going on before he slams their lips together, kissing every doubt out of Harry’s mind.

It’s so easy, somehow, the whole thing. Just like that, Harry’s in love with him, and just like this, they’re kissing. God, Louis wants to scream, he’s in love with Harry too. He shifts to hover over Harry a little more and licks into his mouth, finally startling Harry out of his frozen shock, jump starting his body to respond to Louis’s every touch.

He’s panting when they finally break apart, lying almost entirely across Louis’s lap. Louis grins down at him and combs his fingers through his hair again, shaking his head.

“I’m in love with you too, by the way,” he confirms. Harry squawks a laugh, surging up to kiss him once again.

“You know,” Harry mumbles, pulling away and cuddling into Louis’s chest. “Maybe the rest of the semester won’t be so bad,” he shrugs.

Louis laughs and shoves him over, crawling on top of him once he’s lying lengthwise across the sofa. “You’re an idiot,” he giggles, attaching their lips again.

They spend the rest of the night just like that, tangled up in each other on the sofa and wondering why they didn’t do this sooner.

Winter

Louis steps down off his chair and admires his handiwork, quite pleased with the twinkly string lights he’s put up along the top of the walls of the whole flat. It looks quite Christmassy, if he does say so himself, and he thinks Harry’s going to be pleasantly surprised when he gets home. 

They don’t have a tree yet, but that’s something they wanted to do together, and Harry’s been busy with finals up until today. He’s at his last exam right now, and when he gets home, he’ll be done with school for a whole month, and Louis has taken some time off to go visit both of their families over the break.

He got promoted to manager at the cafe a couple of weeks ago, which has wildly increased the quality of his life. He works significantly less hours but gets paid significantly more, which means he has a lot more leisure time with which he can work on writing and resting and, most importantly, helping Harry with his school work. The cafe doesn’t seem so bad now that he’s not constantly on the floor getting trampled with bad hours and bad pay, and while he still doesn’t plan to be there forever, he thinks he can survive a few more years. He’s also doing better now that Shane has apparently run out of friends whose phones he can use to harass Louis, and the messages have blessedly stopped.

Harry, on the other hand, has about three mental breakdowns a week at this point. Louis is getting better at talking him down and convincing him that he’s not going to fail out of school and that all of his work is not for naught, but still Harry gets a bit overwhelmed. They’re dealing with it, though, and now there’s only one more semester, and then Harry will finally be done.

Louis checks the time on his phone and grins; Harry should be finishing up his test now, and he’s due home in about a half hour. He rushes to get the box of tinsel he left on the kitchen table and start hanging that up in and around the lights, wanting a full winter wonderland for when Harry gets home. Sure, there’s still two weeks until Christmas, but Louis can hardly wait.

He’s sweating in his jumper by the time he’s all finished with the decorating, but he doesn’t want to take it off. It’s Harry’s jumper, actually, and Harry loves seeing him in it, which means Louis loves being in it.

He can hear Harry coming down the hall from the stairwell, heavy footfalls echoing throughout the empty space, and he rushes to get in position. He flicks off the switch by the door so that the only light in the room comes from the string lights, and even though it’s not totally dark outside, it looks magically cozy. He waits by the door until he hears Harry’s keys jingling outside of it, and finally Harry throws the door open.

“I did it!” he shouts, throwing his arms up as he walks inside. “I’m- done,” he trails off, looking around the room. “Lou,” he grins, spotting Louis beside the door, eyes twinkling in the low light.

“Congratulations, baby,” Louis hums, giggling when Harry wraps him up in his arms. “Merry Christmas!”

“This looks amazing,” Harry says, pulling away to admire Louis’s decorating. “Did you do this all by yourself?”

“I had Gemma help me position the hooks to hold the lights up, but other than that, it was all me. She thinks we’re cheesy,” Louis says happily, taking Harry’s school bag for him and closing it in the closet, not to be seen again until January.

“We are cheesy,” Harry laughs, taking Louis by the hips and pulling him close. “You are, at least.”

“But you love me anyway,” Louis says, wrapping his arms around Harry’s shoulders.

“I do,” Harry pecks his lips, “my little cheeseball.”

Louis hums and pulls away, dancing across the floor. Ever since they told Gemma a few weeks ago that they’re actually dating, she won’t leave them alone about how in love they are, how in love they’ve always been. Louis loves it, for all that he moans about it; loves being so in love that it makes other people feel sick.

Harry follows him to the kitchen, pressing him against the cupboards and kissing him slow. Louis gets his fingers tangled in Harry’s hair and scratches at the back of his neck, until Harry pulls away with a shiver.

“Go find us a Christmas film,” Harry says, speaking right against Louis’s lips. “Do you want pasta for dinner, or our leftovers from dinner the other night?”

“Mm, leftovers,” Louis decides, pecking Harry’s lips once more and slipping away to trot to the sofa. He’s still flicking through Netflix for a Christmas movie when Harry comes back with two plates of reheated meatloaf and mashed potatoes, and they curl up together in a way that’s become completely natural.

Louis falls asleep in mostly the same position a few hours later, after a cup of hot chocolate and two old, cheesy Christmas films. He’ll wake up in his own bed in the morning with Harry curled up around him, as he usually does these days. The string lights still flicker outside of his closed eyelids but he’s oblivious to them, helpless to the warmth and the comfort that only Harry can bring him.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are welcome, thank you for reading.
> 
> if you liked the fic, you can reblog it [here](http://suspendrs-fics.tumblr.com/post/159058915727/fukcinglouis-in-midnights-in-cups-of-coffee-by), or you can [buy me a coffee](http://ko-fi.com/alyvia) :)
> 
>  
> 
> [faq](http://suspendrs-fics.tumblr.com/faq)
> 
> this story is now available in paperback format in a small anthology of my fics! [you can buy it here](http://www.lulu.com/shop/suspendrs/in-every-universe-an-anthology/paperback/product-23739591.html)


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